by j.j. Daper

The first line was a deep red, running from the nape of her neck to her tailbone, a two fingered stripe applied under the approving gaze of her lover. Laura shivered and stretched slightly under my touch, and Rebecca chuckled to see her girlfriend's surprise at the coolness of the paint.

Candles burned around us and the lights were dim. The remains of dinner were still on the table in the dining room. Laura lay on a heavy sheet I'd found at the Goodwill. Our wine was in paper cups, as was the paint sitting neatly on several sheets of plastic wrap. The paint felt both smooth and gritty, like used motor oil. I was used to regular oil paints, not this edible stuff, but Rebecca had insisted on the least toxic paints I could find and these seem to fit the bill. Laura was worth it; I had been painting since I was a girl, and her body was a canvas like none other I'd ever worked with.

Looking up at Rebecca, I motioned for silence, then painted white and red lines across each of our cheeks, whispering "We're warriors now, Rebecca, Amazons; only I vote we keep our breasts."

"Excuse me," said Laura in mock exasperation as we chuckled, "you're supposed to be painting me!"

"Red and white," I said softly to Rebecca, "stand for passion and purity," then nodding to her girlfriend, added, "watchwords of our relationship." She knew what I meant. My friendship with Laura was tempered by the realization that we would never be partners like she and Rebecca. We had known passion, yet there was a purity that wouldn't delve into the baggage of commitment or jealousy. We belonged to ourselves, and gave ourselves for the most part to other people. Laura had Rebecca, and a few other love interests that didn't burn nearly so bright. And I was happily committed to my husband, Jon, all the more happily since he approved of my exploring this attraction I had for women.

"In the East," I added as I drew a heart across Laura's thigh with lighting flashing through it, "red and white stand for relationships and clarity, obviously something I've been working on recently." They knew my story, how my desires haunted me until I poured them out to Jon -- despite my concern he would feel inadequate or insecure. I had tried to bury this part of me so deep, only to wind up buying fashion magazines at the checkout counter so I could stare at the women. Yet they weren't real, and I so desperately wanted to connect with real women in some deeply intimate way -- though I doubt I could have said how. Eventually I grew tired of being afraid of who I am or that who I am might be too scary for Jon. I also realized the more I buried that part of myself, the more we both had to fear from it.

Laura and I had met at the bus stop. For some reason, I'd gone to work early that day and found her waiting for the earlier bus. She was tall with stunning Nordic features, blue eyes and short cropped blond hair. Like a schoolgirl giddy for attention, I caught the earlier bus every day after that. And as we shared a certain depth and common sense of humor, we opened up over the course of several weeks. She told me of her relationships with various women, and I talked about my art, my husband, and my own growing interest in women. When I asked if she wanted to come to a brunch I was hosting, she agreed.

And when I asked sometime later if I could paint her, she agreed to that too, and then kissed me. That day is forever burned in my memory. We were having tea on a bright sunny morning sitting on her bed in her studio apartment. I had just shown her an album with photos of my best work. Then I asked her without much thought, fearing that if I thought about what I really wanted, I wouldn't ask at all, "Can I paint you?"

She smiled and looked flattered, saying, "Okay."

I swallowed and shook my head. "No, I mean... I want to paint you," and nearly gasped with the effort of getting it out. She understood immediately. Sliding over next to me, she looked into my eyes and said in her clear strong voice, "Yes." She was so close I could feel her breath. I thought I could feel her heart beating, only to realize it was my heart pounding. Her bright blue eyes looked down into mine, and then she leaned closer. I almost moved back, then some reflex I didn't know I possessed angled my face up to meet hers. Her lips caught mine unaware and parted. Her mouth was so small, and her skin so smooth. She was not like anyone I had ever kissed before. And then I was kissing her feverishly, as if this were all the time in the world I would ever have to kiss her. I ran my cheek across her cheek. There was no scrape of stubble. I pressed my lips about her earlobe. I drowned myself in the sensations of her.

I never asked what she intended with that kiss. I was so ready for her, without knowing it, and she so delighted in my pleasure, she just let me kiss her and responded with even deeper kisses. I don't know how my thighs got wrapped about her leg. I don't remember lying down. Her scent was so intoxicating, her touch so profound, and our movements so rhythmic that I nearly exploded! Caught up in some cosmic dance, I didn't know where I ended and everything else began. When I came to my senses, and saw Laura's amused smile, I just lay beside her with the silliest grin on my face.

Now I sat in her girlfriend's living room with Laura naked on the floor in front of us. Amazing how life unfolds! I looked up at Rebecca, who smiled broadly, a playful light dancing in her eyes. She was at times a most marvelous child in the most wonderful of women's bodies. When Laura had introduced us, the serious depth and playful intensity of her soft brown eyes struck me. We were having dinner at her house, and our conversation touched on so many points of mutual interest yet easily slipped into humorous banter. Her rounded face was beautiful and the subtle patterns of energy and life that danced across its surface made me smile. Over the course of our first few meetings, I continually found myself simply staring at her face.

I had known a lot of pleasure in my visits with Laura, and was surprised to find her girlfriend equally appealing. Well, why not? I thought. Laura has great tastes! When we climbed into Rebecca's hot tub after dinner, I was again surprised, only this time at how beautiful Rebecca's body was. There used to be a time I'd have died to have a body like that! Compact with gentle sloping shoulders, well-proportioned rounded breasts and hips, trim thighs and legs.

What an odd set we were: Rebecca with her reddish brown hair and natural beauty; Laura so tall and lean with long legs, small breasts, pale skin, and stunning features; and me with my large breasts, short legs, Eskimo padding, dark skin, eyes and hair almost black. I told myself if I had to choose, I'd rather look at such beautiful women than be one, but that was a lie. I wondered if Laura ever felt jealous of her girlfriend. You're externalizing, I told myself. Laura is not only beautiful, she has a very good sense of self. Realizing that, I suddenly felt jealous of Laura too, then laughed at myself for falling back into old patterns. "You two are so beautiful!" I nearly shouted to them and the joy I felt in that truth returned my equanimity. Later, between having my back scratched by Laura and giving Rebecca a foot massage, I broached the topic of painting Laura. "So what do you think, Rebecca," I asked, "would you mind if I painted your girlfriend?"

"Only if I can supervise," she answered without hesitation.

Now as I sat looking at the painted canvas of Laura's back, I realized so many of the scenes dealt mostly with my own past, and not with Laura at all.

"Okay, turn over," I said. Time to start anew.

"Don't you want me to wait for it to dry?" asked Laura.

"No," I replied. "That was just practice. What comes next is for real."

And with great delight, I watched as the weight of Laura's beautiful body smeared the elements of my past into a messy rainbow of colors.

So far, Rebecca had just watched, but now she looked at me with unabashed mischief. She wanted to take a more than "supervisory" role. So I pushed the paints toward her, and we set about our task with fresh vigor.

Now I painted completely in the moment. The push of that fleshy canvas varied from hip to thigh, rib to breast as a new set of scenes unfolded across Laura's belly, chest and legs: mountain camping scenes, a comet across her left breast, forests and a river with hot springs nearby. These were places we had talked about going. This was our future, and it was a lot more fun to paint. I relished sharing such fun with Rebecca, and Laura's smile assured me she was pleased to see us both so happy. Rebecca drew a campfire, flowers, stick people, a peace sign and a happy face. I thought they were perfect.

None of us expected what happened next, and perhaps nothing would have happened at all if Rebecca hadn't licked the paint. But she did. She didn't like a line she'd drawn. Laura squirmed and I blinked to see Rebecca licking the paint off her thigh. My immediate revulsion wavered as I realized these were not normal paints. I'd spent many years working with paints, and licking them had never crossed my mind. Now the thought consumed my brain. I looked down at Laura's rib and decided I no longer liked a perfectly drawn line. It would have to go. And more gingerly than Rebecca's thoughtless move, I timidly leaned over and started licking it off.

My tongue crossed through three colors in the span of 5 ribs, and my nose brushed up against Laura's breast. The paints had varying textures, odors and even tastes! My eyes wandered innocently over to where Rebecca sat watching me. "I didn't like that line," I said, a smile tugging at my lips.

"I think you did," was all she said, then leaned over and lapped her smiley face off Laura's pelvis with her tongue.

"Laura," I said, "we've decided to make a few modifications."

"Uh huh," she sighed.

I suspected my painter's overalls were going to get messy. Running my hand along Laura's thigh, a mountain scene morphed into an impressionistic collage. Rebecca's tongue traveled across Laura's abdomen, across her navel, and up around her left breast where it careened into my comet and wiped it from the heavens. Then she began licking an ear. I didn't remember painting any ears. My hand dropped onto Laura's belly, then slipped its way down the paint and saliva trail left by Rebecca's tongue until it rested at the crest of Laura's pubic hair, a jungle I had explored before. Bending over to lick a cloud from Laura's right breast, I let my hand pass around to massage her inner thighs.

A hand touched my back and one of my overall straps dropped down around my shoulders. I smiled up at Laura only to realize she hadn't touched me at all. She watched pensively as her partner removed my other strap. My stomach tightened. Rebecca was slowly and methodically removing my clothing. She pulled my T-shirt off and I sat up, looked into her soft brown eyes. She looked almost wistful. She had never shared Laura with anyone. Always, my time with Laura had been on our own time. And Rebecca had never invited another person into their intimacy. This was new terrain and Rebecca was the cartographer.

Finally she reached for my arm, as if to reassure me, as if to thank me for my friendship. I had the strange sensation she was going to thank me for the love I had shown her lover. Then her hand moved up my shoulder and down my bra strap to rest on my concealed breast. She was still exploring the possibilities in her mind, and I remained completely still. When it dropped to the clasp, I finally exhaled. I think Laura did too. The clasp was undone in an instant, and my breasts fell out into her waiting hands. Paint and sweat mixed to smear across my front as she pulled me toward her. The wonder in her eyes at her own bravado was drowned out by the sight of her tongue as she licked the dried paint on my cheek.

Laura was beside us, kissing Rebecca's neck as she pulled the two of us down toward her. Rebecca hesitated again and pulled back. Some concern crossed her face, and both Laura and I tensed, looked uneasily at each other. Then she backed away and got up. Looking down at us she smiled a reassuring smile, gingerly stripped off her clean shirt and bra, and tossed them into the corner. Then she turned the lights off before shedding her pants.

We were surrounded now only by candlelight. Rebecca pushed Laura back down, then leaned over to kiss me before tackling her girlfriend with renewed vigor. Laura's hand found mine and directed it to Rebecca's breast, which I massaged with my paint-smeared hands while Laura's hand continued down my side and dug through my thick fur. I swayed and rubbed my breasts against Rebecca's buttocks. Under the pressure of those fleshy orbs, Rebecca fell forward across Laura, who took one of her breasts in her mouth. Now Rebecca's hand was sinking into her, and Laura's arm was flailing to the side. The paint covered us, and our bodies were slippery and warm. Still feeling the outsider even in this bizarre turn of events, I simply waited for someone's lead, blowing softly across Rebecca's back and neck.

Anticipating my hesitation, Laura finally found what she'd been after, the plastic wrap under the paints. She pulled out a sheet, sending red and white paint mingling across the remaining sheets and onto the floor. Then her hand found mine, shoved the wrap into it and promptly slapped Rebecca's butt. Following her lead, I dove in first with my fingers, and then with my tongue.

Rebecca shuddered and squirmed in ecstasy. She pushed Laura, who was expert at knowing what she wanted and obligingly inched up until her belly was exposed to Rebecca's gaze. Rebecca dove at Laura's ribs with her teeth and her tongue, then nibbled her way down her belly and abdomen, fondling Laura's breast with one hand while reaching back behind her with the other hand to keep my head in place. Being so present to two other women was intoxicating. The smell of fruity flavored paints and sweat mixed with a humming of sighs and groans as Rebecca and Laura both undulated feverishly.

Finally, the pleasure of both giving and receiving too much to sustain, Rebecca seized up and collapsed exhausted onto her girlfriend. I fell gratefully on top of both. When Laura's demure smile told me she wasn't ready to be done, I sent my fingers to finish the job Rebecca had started. Then Rebecca's mouth was around my breast, and her hand was digging into me. I tried to remember to keep massaging Laura, even as my own pleasure pushed the will from my limbs. Rebecca pulled my limp hand away and took over, stroking both of us at once. Laura and I kissed each other madly, caressing each other's and Rebecca's breasts. We came together in an explosion of gasps and laughter, and Rebecca planted a big kiss on both our lips before collapsing beside us.

Hours later, when the candles were stubs, and our bare bodies melded together in a pile of flesh and medley of dried, flaking colors, I saw Rebecca looking at me. The sheet we had used as a drop cloth was wrapped around us, and we were tucked under Laura's arm, one to each side. I thought how the sleeping body we shared between us was the bridge of our friendship. Rebecca seemed to share that thought, and she smiled the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. "I like your art," she whispered, and somewhere between that comment and the netherworld of sleep it dawned on me that she was the one who had insisted on edible paints.